Captain North
by JA Baker
Summary: For generations, She has been watching, waiting for one worthy of the mantel it was within her power to bestow...


_It's all owned by other people. People not me.  
__Just writing this for fun, as it's something that popped into my head.  
__Only seen the TV series, never read the books, so apologies if I contradict anything._

**Captain North**

Ned Stark had heard tell that a man's head lived for several minutes after it was cut from his body. He couldn't attest to that, as the last thing he could remember was hearing Joffrey give the order, and the sound of his own sword as it started to fall towards his neck. He was somewhat at a loss as to just _how_ he could remember that, given that he should, by all rights be dead. No description he had ever heard or read of what might lay beyond death was in any way similar to where he found himself, which was laying on what felt like damp grass, looking up at a star-filled sky.

Raising his head, which was still very much attached to his neck, he looked around; he was laying in the middle of a circle of mist shrouded standing stones, much like he had seen across the North. They seemed to by laid out at the top of a small rise, the only other feature of which was a tall willow tree. Carefully sitting up, he looked down to discover that his clothing had been repaired, and was as clean as he had ever known it.

"Eddard Stark of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, do not be afraid." A soft, warm feminine voice seemed to come from all around him, "I mean you no harm, and there are none who can harm you while you are in this place."

"What about when I leave?" He asked instinctively.

"That is up to you." The voice replied, seeming to echo off the stones, "When you leave this place, you can go on to your final rest, if that is your wish, or you can return to your lands, a champion of justice amid those who have forgotten what true justice is."

"Just who are you?" Stark asked, pulling himself to his feet, "Show yourself!"

"I am known by many names. To some, I am Roma." the mist seemed to coalesces into the form of a tall woman dressed in a purple tunic and a brilliant white cloak, with deep blue eyes and long, flowing black hair, "To you, I am known as the Lady of the Northern Skies."

"My Lady!" Stark fell to his knees, well remembering the stories he had heard of one of the most powerful and mysterious of the Old Gods.

"Rise, Eddard Stark. Or may I call you Ned?" The woman smiled, "Long have I watched over your people and your family, waiting for one to prove themselves worthy. To prove that they hold justice above all else, even to the point of death."

"But... I did not." Stark felt ashamed, "I lied to try and save my own life..."

"And the lives of your daughters." Roma nodded, "No, I know the truth of your heart; you are an honourable man, a man who believes in the Old Ways, that those who have power have the responsibility to use it to protect those who do not. And your lands are now at a time when they will need men such as yourself; men of honour and integrity, more than ever. Winter is indeed coming, in ways you can not imagine. And so it is now that I come to you and bid that you serve as my champion, a protector of the innocent. It is a hash road I set before you, one I will not force you to walk. The choice, my Lord Stark, is yours." she gestured towards the tree, and Stark could see two glowing objects hanging from them, "The Amulet of Right and the Sword of Might, talismans of great power, a power that will be yours to harness. But be warned, whichever you pick will decide the path you tread from this point on." She closed her eyes, "Or, you can chose neither, and travel on to that which awaits you beyond this place."

"And what does await me?" Stark asked.

"That is not my place to tell you; there are some rules even I must abide by." Rome shock her head, "The choice is your."

Stark stood and took a step towards the tree. The sword looked finer than any he had ever seen, bigger and sharper than even his own greatsword, Ice, and he felt sure that it would be more than enough to rend even the greats knight low. But he had been raised to follow the Old Ways, and while he was a warrior, he knew that Might did not make Right. Far too many knights, lords and kings had believed that, and far too many had paid the price for their hubris. No, there had been too much bloodshed already, and while he was sure that there would be more before the end, he would not cause any more of it than necessary. Reaching out with one hand, he carefully lifted the Amulet.

It felt surprisingly warm in his hand, which soon spread through out his body, bathing him in an unearthly glow. He felt a strange power invigorate him, making him feel refreshed, as if he was the same young man that had marched off to war alongside his best friend and his mentor. But there was more than that; he felt a deep connection to the North, to the land and the people, unlike anything he had ever felt before. He could feel the hopes and fears of everyone, from the highest lord to the lowliest peasant. He knew things, things that he had never even dreamed of, things that could change the world for the better.

The light faded, and he looked down in shock; his body was clad in the finest armour he had ever seen, embossed with the grey Dire Wolf that was the sigil of House Stark. A helmet that felt as light as a feather but somehow stronger than even Valyrian steel sat upon his head. The Amulet hung around his neck, safely below the armour, its weight a reminder of the duty that was his.

"You have chosen wisely, Eddard Stark." Roma smiled, "Right over Might; reason over violence, compassion over anger. I knew I was right to choose you for this task." She waved her hand and a glowing portal appeared beside her, "Go now, my Captain; return to your people as a beacon of justice and hope, a remind that, while winter may be coming, then so too is the spring."

"I... I thank you." Stark nodded, and taking a deep breath, step forwards into his destiny.

**The End**


End file.
